Free Three Days Before the Shooting ... by Ralph Ellison Page A

Senator is one who delivers. And in spite of what his many critics say, he has insight. He has a subtle understanding of people. And when he wishes, he can be like a wise priest who sees their secret failings and understands them. Besides, he hands out excellent advice on many things having nothing to do with politics per se ….”
    “Sweeney,” the man with the moustache said, “you sound like Sunraider’s done you a few favors.”
    “He has and I’m not hiding it. But in my opinion he’s done the whole country a lot of good, and I’m proud to have him for a friend.”
    “Well, at least you admit it,” the man with the moustache said. “But you really don’t have to go mystical about it, just because he’s allowed you to get close to the pork barrel. As far as I’m concerned, Sunraider is such a crook that all he has to do is to look at a man in a certain way and he feels that he’s automatically involved himself in a conspiracy.”
    “Tell me, Larson,” Sweeney said, “why is it that you always have to get personal whenever you present your bigoted and lamebrained political opinions?”
    “Lamebrained!” the moustached man said. “Who are you calling lamebrained?”
    “You,” Sweeney said, “and in spades!”
    “Why, you sentimental sycophant, you self-serving creature of Sun-raider’s guile. You bumptious blatherskite from Boston!”
    Larson reached out, and I saw a short fat man pushing his way between them.
    “Now wait, fellows,” the fat man said. “Remember where we are—let’s not get upset.”
    Someone cleared his throat. Sweeney and Larson glared.
    “I’ll tell you something else that’s interesting about the Senator,” the fat man said. “That fellow has the damndest way of making a man want to laugh!”
    Larson and Sweeney glared silently down upon him and then across at one another.
    “You mean when he mimics his colleagues?” someone said.
    “Oh, no.” The fat man shook his head. “He’s a riot when he does that, but I’m speaking of what goes on in private. You can be in his office talking about something as serious as all hell, you can be worried near to death and damn near in tears, and he’ll be looking at you with a perfectly straight face while he goes on talking seriously, explaining something—and the next thing you know, you’re breaking up. Laughing your head off. Everything appears in a funny light. I can’t explain it, but it’s happened to me a couple of times.”
    “Oh, come off it, Pat,” a voice said, “you live for laughs. Your mind wandered and you thought of some of Sunraider’s tricks and you broke up. There’s nothing mysterious about your laughing at anybody.”
    “But that isn’t it,” the fat man said. “Now, I admit that I live for good food, strong liquor, and laughs, but this is something else. He makes you feel that there’s a joke lying at the bottom of everything.”
    “So now we have the testimony of a philosopher,” Larson said with a grimace.
    The fat man smiled. “What makes a philosopher,” he said, “a bad temper, a bad case of boils? But it’s not just me. Why, coming from a funeral one time, I rode in the same car with old Judge McCaslin and some friends, and that dignified old gentleman, who had been standing beside the Senator at the graveside—and it was a very sad funeral—the old gentleman almost embarrassed himself. Had to jam a handkerchief into his mouth to keep from exploding right there in the funeral car. He was crying like a baby, and when he finally got himself under control and we asked him what had happened, allhe could do was shake his head and say, ‘Oh, that Sunraider! That damnable Sunraider!’ And then he had to jam that handkerchief right back into his mouth!”
    There were smiles, then Larson said, “Listen, Sweeney, getting back to this name-calling—you have your opinion about Sunraider and I have mine, and I think it’s too early to start turning a character like him into some